One Saturday
by MatureImmaturity
Summary: This is a companion piece to 'Just Another Kid'. You can read this on its own, but 'Just Another Kid' gives some background. Rating for language.


**One Saturday**

          As I bid farewell to my friends, I take the roundabout way to the familiar stone gargoyle I have come to associate with intelligent conversation. Making sure there are no passersby to notice a statue move aside, I whisper a childish password, "_Acid Pops", _and hop on the upward spiraling staircase.

            Once I am at the top, I have no need to knock, as he knows it is I. There is a burning sound from within.

            "Albus, it is safe to come in?" I inquire, slowly opening the magnificent oak door and peeking my head inside. 

            "Of _course, Emily. You should _know_ today is Fawkes' Burning Day. I've been telling you it's around this time for __ages."_

            "Oh, come now, Albus. Stop poking fun at my generation. Are you _quite _sure you're fit to be Headmaster?"

            "I'm never sure. But I am positive. Negativity closes the mind. Lemon drop?" he offers, as we both take our regular seats, him _not _behind his desk, but sitting next to me, as on that first day. I observe him with a raised eyebrow.

            "Your ability to delve into a completely trivial topic continues to astound me. No, thanks. I rather had my fill of those at the Valentine's Ball last week. Which reminds me, why do you persist in holding one _every_ year?"

            "Isn't it obvious? I am a child at heart, as I have told you many times. I wish to preserve that innocent gleam in a first year students' eye when they have 'first love'. Is not that good enough?"

            I frown.

            "Let me rephrase the question. Why do you prolong the tradition of making the staff appear, when it is clear they want absolutely _nothing_ to do with that hormone-crazed snog fest?"

            He smiles, his sky blue orbs twinkling madly.

            "The professors at Hogwarts know that supervising a ball is about as far as I will ask them to stretch. Most cooperate willingly, to be truthful, if not with a sigh of resignation."

            "And Sn—Professor Snape?"

            I cannot tell, but I think I see the twinkle get . . . well . . . twinklier. 

            "Severus knows that what I ask is not much. He usually ends up leaving by the last song anyway, no matter how hard I strive in getting him to stay. No one has ever been successful in making him dance, or enjoy the ball in any matter, in that case. I'm afraid he is content to stand in a corner and scowl for the duration of any ball."

            I giggle softly, and Albus shakes his head somewhat sadly.                          

            "Why don't you just let him sulk in his dungeons for the whole of the event?"

            "Where would the fun be in that situation?"

            I roll my eyes.

            "Us third years are just getting the hang of these school functions. Do you really have to scare the living daylights out of us by have Sn—Professor Snape _looming behind us in dark corners?"_

            "Severus _is an excellent loomer, isn't he?"_

            "Albus! I'm serious!"

            He smiles, those eyes amused at my frustration.

            "Sometimes, I just wish you weren't the headmaster, so I could tell on you to the headmaster."

            "Whatever did _I do?" he asks innocently._

            "Nothing," I mutter, gazing at his ceiling. "Nothing except be the hugest nuisance in the world, that's all." 

            Since Albus and I have been having these talks since the beginning of my second year, I am accustomed to the style that he speaks in. To me, at least. I have noticed that with every person, he seems to be something different. Something everyone needs in their lives. A friend to confide in. A father figure. Or perhaps just that eccentric grandfather who everyone wants but few have.

            "Now how would I be a nuisance, Emily? Am I preventing you from having something you want?"

            I freeze, considering that he could not possibly know the implications of what he has just said. Relaxing, I reply,

            "What could I want that you are preventing me from having something? Other than leadership of this school, that is." I grin at him.

            "Perhaps it is not something, but some_one_."

            _He knows! He knows! Bloody hell, he knows! But how could he have found out?_

            "What?" I inquire naively, acting as if I have no idea what he is talking about while all along I am as tense as if I am taking the N.E.W.T.s.

            "It becomes rather obvious when you begin to chew your fork instead of food because you are staring at him all through breakfast and lunch, dear. It's all right. Nothing is wrong with—"

            "Of _course it's wrong!" I explode, finally accepting that he knows, that I can keep it a secret no longer. I stand up and begin swiftly pacing the floor, unknowingly copying my beloved's actions. "He's a teacher, I'm a student; he's a Slytherin, I'm a Ravenclaw, which isn't as bad as Gryffindor, but it's still bad. He's really stingy and mean, I'm only like that some of the time—"_

            "_Why _are you so confident that he was in Slytherin?"

            "Where else would he be?" I exclaim, throwing my hands up in irritation. 

            "Severus was in Ravenclaw, believe it or not."

            "He—eh—wha?!" I stutter, halting my pacing.

            "Yes, Severus was a clever little eleven-year-old. Maybe too clever for his own good. It has made him cruel and bitter over the years, his thirst for knowledge."

            I begin pacing again.

            "So you see? It would never work between me and him, him and me, total and complete opposites—"

            "Except for that quirk I seem to remember you mentioning to me."

            Another halt.     

            "I told you that in confidence, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. If you blabbed that I play piano and sing to Severus Snape, love of my life and apple of my eye, you will sincerely pay. And _not _in Galleons."

            Realizing the words I have just spoken, I collapse into my chair, as my legs are not working. I put my head in my hands and speak to him from that position.

            "I've just used 'Severus Snape' and 'love of my life' in the same sentence, haven't I?"

            "I believe you have."

            Neither of us speak for a short period.

            "What was it you were going to say before I leaked my deepest, darkest secret to the walls of Hogwarts?"

            "I was beginning to say that Severus plays piano and sings as well. He's been searching for a good accompanist for a while now."

            "Right. Well, my life is ruined, so I guess I'll being seeing you later, Albus. Of course, once I leave this room, it'll be 'Professor Dumbledore.' I'll never get used to saying that."

            I stand, albeit shakily, and open the door to Albus's office. Oh yes, I think I faint after doing so. Want to take a shot at guessing _why_?

* * *

            When I come to, I am still laying on the floor of Albus's office, as I have nothing medical wrong with me. They are talking, not realizing I am conscious.

            "I'm quite serious, Severus, Miss Dobbsworth could really improve your style. I've heard her play. It's fantastic."

            'Severus' snorts. _I really do have to keep calling him Snape; just sounds odd otherwise. And when did Albus hear me? _

            "Albus, what could a mere third year _Ravenclaw _possibly teach me? Besides, she sounds too emotional to be able to concentrate properly. I heard her screeching halfway down your stairs. I'm surprised half the staff didn't wonder why you were allowing a banshee in Hogwarts."

            "Well, I'm wondering why Professor Dumbledore doesn't whip out garlic cloves every time he meets with you, but I don't go spurting that out at random."

            Both men whirl around to stare at my face, which is now deathly pale, with my left hand clapped over my stupid, _stupid mouth. __Why, oh why did I say that? Now I'm going to get detention until I graduate._

            "Miss Dobbsworth," Professor Snape murmurs, looking able to kill, "you _do _remember that I am the teacher and you are the student, correct?"

            I nod, not trusting my voice in the least, either to blurt out another insult, or some lovey-dovey quip that would surely make him think me insane.

            "Good. Detention. Tonight. Eight o'clock."

            With that, he leaves the office, presumably heading for his dungeons. There is silence.

            "How long was he outside your door, Albus?"

            "You would have to ask Professor Snape that, Emily." He smiles, and in that instant, I know what has happened.

            "You wily old man. You set me up!"

            "I have no idea _what you are accusing me of, Emily. Were not you going to leave my office on account of your life being ruined?"_

            "I know when I'm not wanted. I'll see you around." I leave, shaking my head as I go. _It had to be Snape._

* * *

            In my haste to rid myself of Albus's sometimes intolerable cheerfulness, I look not where I am going. When I am finally cooled down enough to have all my senses back, I find myself standing at the shore of the lake. I sigh, not surprised. It is where I come to think, even if it is twenty degrees (F) out. Sitting down on a dry boulder, I rest my chin on my right fist and stare off into space, contemplating my situation.

            _I think I'm in love with Snape. No. Scratch that. I **am in love with Snape. Albus saw to it that I was aware of that little fact.**_

            I scowl, thinking of my overly cheery professor/friend. 

_            Snape hates my guts. Well, not as much as those Gryffindors, but hates me all the same. There was that vampire comment, and the fact that I'm not in Slytherin, but I don't even know why he favors that house since he **was** in Ravenclaw. Other than that, well, I guess there is no other than that. Those two reasons are reason enough for Severus Snape, Potions Master of Hogwarts, to never want to have any other relationship with me besides teacher and student. And even then, things are pretty frosty._

I glance at my watch, the old-fashioned one that I have to wind since electricity doesn't work in Hogwarts.

            "Seven fifty-five?!" I frantically inquire of the silent lake. Leaping off my perch, I bolt across the grounds, into the castle, through the Entrance Hall, down the dungeon stairs, down the Potions hallway, and into the Potions classroom, where Professor Snape is looking disappointed that I am not late. Trying to catch my quickly leaving breath, I stand up straight and stare at the ground, not risking a glance into his obsidian orbs.

            "Tonight, you will be cleaning out the third year cauldrons. And I mean, _cleaning._"

            He gestures to a table where there is a scrub brush and one cauldron. With all the others lined up behind it. A light bulb (again, muggle-born) goes off in my head and I wince. Jessica Warbledork-I mean Warble_dorf_, is by far, the _worst_ potions student I have ever seen.

            "Yes, sir," I mumble, moving toward the table almost subordinately.

            Every now and then, I glance up at him, trying to memorize every line and contour of his face (as if I could forget that face). He looks frustrated about something. Halfway through my detention, I find out what. 

            "Damn it all!" he cries in aggravation, pounding one fist on his desk and beginning to pace. I start, looking up from my mindless task. Inwardly debating, I risk a question.

            "What . . . what is it, sir?"

            "You wouldn't know . . ." he states, mumbling to himself about nosy students and their detentions.

            "How d'you know I wouldn't know if you didn't ask me in the first place?" I inquire indignantly.

            He glares, and for a moment, I fear I have earned myself another detention. But then, his façade drops, and all I see is the face of an irritated man.

            "Fine. I can't seem to recall how the starting measures of one of Bach's pieces play. But then again, I suppose _you wouldn't even know who Bach is, would you?"_

            We both narrow our eyes.         

            "Well maybe if I could conjure up a piano and the name of the piece, I could possibly be of more help to you then a cauldron cleaner!"

            I am joking, naturally, but Professor Snape takes me seriously. He whips out his wand (so much for silly wand waving) and within an instant, there is a grand piano sitting where the second column of desks would have been. He murmurs something I cannot quite hear. 

            "What?" I ask, still in shock from the piano. He mutters again; I hear a name that I recognize, a piece I could play in my sleep. "What are the measures?"

            "One through fifteen."

            I skip over (obviously forgetting where I am, as skipping is forbidden in Professor Snape's dungeons) to the instrument and play the wonderful tune he had forgotten. He gapes.

            "Where on _Earth did you learn to play like that?"_

            "Myself."

            "I'm dead serious, Miss Dobbsworth."

            "As am I, Professor Snape. Ask my parents. Give them Veritaserum," I add sarcastically.

            He looks me over suspiciously, then shakes his head, as if disagreeing with a voice talking to him. He sighs and sits resignedly down on the piano bench next to me. I do not know how to act. Professor Severus Snape is sitting right next to me. Of his own free will. _And I'm not doing anything because? I take a couple of deep breaths, then turn to him, though rigid, and ask,_

            "I suppose you'd like to learn them?"

            He quirks one slender eyebrow as he stares, not at me, but at the piano, on which his glare is directed. 

            "I already _knew them, Miss Dobbsworth. I only need to remember them."_

            "Right. Well, here, I'll play it slower, so you can get all the notes. Not that I'm implying you're stupid. Because you're not. I just thought—oh piss it!"

            He looks up at my exclamation, but I am focused on my playing, on making every note painstakingly clear enough for his ears. I can feel his piercing gaze on my figure, and am surprised that I am still making every sharp and flat in the music. Finally, I can stand it no longer. I tear my hands away from the precious keys and stand.

            "Will you bloody well stop staring at me?! I can't concentrate with a great big bat leering at me all the while!" _Ok, so maybe that was not all true._

            His head jerks up, a sneer upon his face which I'm not sure was there before. I speak and interrupt whatever he was about to say.

            "Yes, I know that you're the teacher, yes, I know that I'm the student, and _yes, for _Merlin's sake_, I know that you can give me detention for life and take away house points until we're in the negative. But just once, I'd like to come in this room and not be judged. Not be judged because of age, or because of house, or because of __anything else you can think of. I don't think you're capable of that, however. So, _Professor Snape,_" I spat, "I will see you in Monday's Potion class."  I stalked toward the entrance, grabbing my bag as I went. I stop at the door, though, and say simply, "The cauldrons are clean, Count Dracula."_

* * *

            Feeling unfathomable rage (I shouldn't have gotten thatmad at him; most of what I said wasn't even connected to our situation); I again march out to my boulder by the lake. I angrily throw my bag down, disregarding that the ink bottles may have broken open and destroyed weeks of work. Plopping down on my still, silent, sanctuary, I close my eyes and release a deep breath. _Maybe this will all work out. _Then I snort at my own foolishness._ Yes, and McGonagall will realize she's madly in love with Peeves. _I smile. 

            "What's so funny?"

            I freeze, knowing that voice a million times over; it always mocks my class even when our potions are flawless. I keep my eyes closed, childishly thinking that if I don't see him, he's not there. Pulling in my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms around them, I lower my head, beginning to take deep breaths through my nose.

            "As much as you would like me to, Miss Dobbsworth, I am not going to disappear into oblivion."

            "Why did you come after me? And how did you know this was where I ran to?" I mumble into my thighs.

            "You have a detention to finish. Did you honestly think the _cauldrons_ were all I needed done? Besides, you come out here every evening. Anyone could have figured that out."

            "That's nice," I mutter, forgetting for the minute with whom I am speaking. "How do you propose to get me inside, much less to the dungeons? I'm _definitely _not going of my own free will."

            There is silence.

            "That's what I thought," I say smugly. I pick my head up and find myself at the wand point of my short-tempered Potions professor. My pupils dilate.

            "If I have to levitate you back into that castle, I will. Kicking and screaming. In front of _anyone and _everyone _watching. Do you understand?"_

            I nod, my eyes never leaving his wand. Slowly, and walking backwards, (what, you think I'm going to bare my back to _Snape?) I pick up my bag and continue to watch his wand._

            "Turn around," he orders. I lose control of my vocal chords. _And my free will, apparently._ I do as he says, turning around and trying not to look _too terrified. His wand is now jabbing me in the back, threatening me if I stop moving._

            Once we reach the Entrance Hall, I slow down, wondering if anyone will notice I am being lead at wand point. No one even so much as glances at us. I begin to wonder if we are invisible. 

            Soon, we come to the Potions classroom. I walk cautiously inside, knowing that this is his domain, and I am but a stranger. He takes his wand out of my spinal cord; I can breathe again. For some reason, the grand piano is still here. I collapse at a worktable, adrenaline pumping through my veins. 

            "You actually believed I would harm you?"

            My heart beat speeds up. I raise my eyes to his, seeing a slightly hurt look in them. That must be enough.

            He is standing in front of me, looking down. Bending down until our faces are no less then one inch apart, he speaks.

            "I have never harmed a student, physically or mentally, since I began teaching here. I would not think to start now."

            "Well you sure know how to make one _believe you would . . ." I mumble, not expecting him to hear. He smirks, the expression a familiar one to his face._

            "Intimidation, Miss Dobbsworth, breeds perfection."

            "And sleep, Professor Snape, breeds alert students." Once again, my mouth works faster than my brain. I slap a hand over the abomination which has betrayed me. Snape does not move, and yet, I am not bothered by that fact.

            "Must you _always have a reply?"_

            "Must you always have a sarcastic sentiment to which I must _supply_ a reply?"

            "Don't answer questions with questions."

            "Don't ask questions that can be answered with questions."

            He finally tears his face from mine and stands straight.

            "You are starting to annoy me, girl," he states staring down at me.

            "Only starting to?" I ask innocently.

            He growls.

            "Are you going to play or not?"

            "What?"

            Rolling his eyes (something I never thought I'd see him do), he elaborates.

            "The piano, Miss Dobbsworth. Are you going to play? Unless you'd rather clean the _fifth year cauldrons?"_

            I am bewildered.

            "What's wrong with the fifth years?"

            "There is a student in my fifth year classes who is one hundred times worse than Miss Warbledorf will ever be."

            I cringe.

            "Now I ask you again. Would you like to play piano, or clean?"

            "If it's all the same to you Professor, I'd rather play," I burble, looking at my shoes as I shuffle over to the bench. Sitting down, an overwhelming feeling of serenity overtakes me. It is odd how playing the piano does that. I smile, and begin one of Mozart's pieces, eyes closed, not even looking at the keys. Therefore, I cannot see the astonished look on Professor Snape's face.            

            I finish, drawing out the last few measures, then cautiously lift my hands from the keys, inch by inch, as if I am afraid I will break them.

            "Emily," he whispers. I swear to God Almighty, my heart stops for a few seconds from his use of my first name. 

            "Y-yes?" I whisper back, barely managing to get the words out of my throat.

            "That . . . that was beautiful."

            Once again, my voice box, vocal chords, and any other organ containing the means for speaking have disappeared. I open my mouth, but only succeed in making myself look like a goldfish, opening and closing, opening and closing. Suddenly, Professor Snape snaps out of whatever trance he was in.

            "Miss Dobbsworth, I believe your detention is over," he murmurs, in that liquid velvet voice of his. I simply nod, stand up, and collect my things. At the door, however, I stop, as I did before.

            "Thank you."

            I leave for my common room, never seeing the pained look on Professor Snape's face, as if he wants me to stay.

* * * 

            After being cooped up in my common room for almost half an hour, I decide to go and see Albus. After all, the old man set me up, probably knowing even before my detention that this would happen. He has a right to know his "plan" worked. It is only nine, so I have an hour until curfew takes effect. That's entirely enough time to have a nice chat with Albus.

            I whisper the password as I approach the gargoyle, replicating my action of earlier. Not even bothering to knock (what could he possibly be doing?), I burst open the door, exclaiming,

            "I think I'm in love!"

            "I think I'm in love!" 

            Only after properly looking around the room do I realize whom I have spoken in perfect synchronization with. I also realize that one should _always _knock before entering Albus Dumbledore's office. It's just common sense. For Severus Snape has just told Albus, in confidence, that he thinks he's in love.

            I turn straight back around, leaping over the spiral staircase and dashing out the secret entrance giving no thought to who might be watching. Strangely enough, I see no one as I bolt out to (I realize later this is very obvious) my boulder. I hear footsteps behind me as I collapse onto my perch and grab my knees, but am out too out of breath to run.

            "Look, Professor Snape, I won't tell anyone, I'm sure she's a very nice girl, unless it's not a she, not that I'm implying that it's _not_, it's just that you never know these days, and I didn't want to assume that—"

            "_Silencio!"_

            Silence. _Of course, that's what's supposed to happen when you cast a silencing spell, duh, Emily._

"What you heard was not meant for ears outside of that office. It was not meant for any ears besides my own and the Headmaster's. Do you understand?"

            I nod, as he has just silenced my ceaseless babble.

            "Good."

            I lift my head up as he begins to pace.

            "Miss Dobbsworth, you are not like the other members of your year, and therefore I know you will not disobey me. You will however, and I am sure of this, try to find out just _who this person is. I assure you that your efforts are futile. You might as well just give up now. Do you understand?"_

            I nod again.      

            "Good. I am going to take the silencing spell off, under the conditions that you will not scream, or make loud noise of any matter. Is this understood?"

            I nod a third time, and he waves his wand while muttering an incantation, taking the spell off.

            "Professor Snape, couldn't I tell Al—Professor Dumbledore that you've been threatening to use and using spells on me?"

            He glares at me.

            "You could, but then, in spite of your impeccable work in class, you would find yourself mysteriously failing Potions."

            "Oh."        

            "That's what I thought."

            I stop staring at his face and instead turn to gaze out at the lake. The giant squid is lethargically floating across the surface, not having to worry about students throwing rocks at it this time of night.

            "Miss Dobbsworth?" he drawls cautiously, sounding interested in what he is about to ask.

            "Mmhmm?" I mumble.

            "Where did you learn to play Mozart like that?"

            I watch the squid for a few more seconds before answering him, not turning my head.

            "I already told you, myself. Piano tutors didn't work, as they often ended up with inexplicable blue hair," I reply in an almost monotone.

            "Blue?"

            "Manifestation of early magical abilities. Since I could never get a tutor to stay longer than one week, I decided to teach myself how to play. Most of them had given me the basics, all I had to learn were the complications. Not that hard, really."

            There is silence, so I assume he has left. I rise off my boulder and hoist up my things only to discover him blocking my way, staring at me as though he is trying to crack some age old mystery. I decide not to say anything if he moves soon.

            "Miss Dobbsworth, do you know how many people in the world can play the piano like that? Master it?"

            I look at the ground, a flush that has nothing to do with the cold coming to my cheeks.

            "I haven't mastered the piano, Professor Snape; I just know more than most people do about music."

            "I have taken piano lessons since I was four years old, and I have never, in all my years of playing, been able to make Mozart sound like that."

            "Like what?"

            He pauses, looking as if he is searching for the right word, then whispers,

            "Alive."

            I still look at the ground (the flush becoming more pronounced) , but cannot help thinking that this is a different side of Professor Snape, one barely seen by anyone other than himself. He keeps blocking my way.

            "Um, Professor Snape, could you maybe move? I need to get back before curfew takes effect."

            He seems to shake himself, like is coming out from under a spell, then swiftly moves aside. The spell is broken. 

            I walk past, brushing my arm up against his, and shiver. It is not cold, but that contact sends tingles up my spine. Walking away towards the castle, I hear him call,

            "I'll expect you won't be barging in the Headmaster's office any more?"

            "No, Professor Snape!" I call back, "But I might just steal that piano!" I am feeling braver tonight than I ever have in facing Professor Snape. Though I think that on this night, he has opened up to me in a way never seen before by student eyes. It makes me feel good to know that someone trusts me that much, and that I trust someone that much to be telling me the truth.


End file.
